


#56

by f_femslash



Category: The L Word
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_femslash/pseuds/f_femslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Hey, I know this happened ages ago on the show, but could you write a Bette/Nadia fic? Maybe something angsty, could be before they break up or after. Pretty much whatever takes your fancy :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	#56

The bar wasn’t far from campus, but it was nice enough that few students were able to afford the drinks there. Bette chose it based on this notion alone, and sat nursing a whiskey – her third – at the end of the bar. The crowd had thinned out considerably as the night wore on and the old timey professors headed home to their spouses. Bette considered calling Alice to come meet her, but couldn’t bring herself to invite the perkiness, the neediness, or the possible lecture that might accompany her high maintenance friend.

She swallowed the rest of her drink, and signaled the bartender for another. Bad idea, bad idea, her brain murmured, but she drank a sip of the new drink when it arrived, anyway, and scrolled through the contacts on her phone. She debated calling Shane. She was a good friend to have around while making bad decisions, but she also tended to ditch her friends for whoever that night’s conquest ended up being.

No, Bette decided to go it alone and tucked her phone back into her purse. Her other option was Phyllis, and no way in hell was that happening. Bette had a good view of the door from her spot at the bar, and she watched the slow trickle out of it as she drank, sinking deeper into her drunkenness.

Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder.

“Bette? Er, Dean Porter?”

Bette looked around. Oh, fuck me. Nadia the fucking TA was standing next to her, looking like a kicked puppy. A concerned kicked puppy.

“Nadia,” she tried not to slur, and attempted a professionally curt nod of her head, “Nice to see you.”

Nadia, thankfully, ignored this. “Are you alright? Do you need a ride home?”

“Of course not,” Bette answered, completely failing at keeping a slight slur from creeping into her words. “I’m fine.”

Nadia looked at the bartender, who shook his head and held up Bette’s keys, which had previously been laying beside her on the bar.

When the fuck did he get those? Bette didn’t ask aloud. It was bad enough she hadn’t noticed when it happened.

“Let me drive you home,” Nadia said, reaching for the keys. The bartender handed them over and closed Bette’s tab, handing her the credit card slip to sign. Bette’s signature looked like chicken scratch.

“You know, I can call a cab,” she started as the two of them exited the bar and headed for her car. She didn’t want to be in the car with Nadia again, not after last time.

“Get in,” Nadia commanded, using the key fob to unlock the doors and sliding into the driver’s seat. Bette sighed and climbed into the passenger seat of her own car. Godmotherfuckingdamnit.

The truth was, this wasn’t the first time she’d been in this position. She’d called Alice twice that week to pick her up from the same bar, too drunk to make it home. She’d called Shane once. The truth was, she was a mess, and she was sure everyone could see it.

“Fuck,” she muttered, staring out the passenger window. Nadia glanced at her.

“Are you okay? Should I pull over?”

“No…no. Nadia-“ Bette started, but Nadia cut her off.

“Don’t. I know you don’t share my feelings. I know I gave up a huge opportunity as your assistant when I decided to get involved with you. But I don’t regret it, okay? I don’t regret the last time I was in this car.”

Bette didn’t have an answer. She didn’t share Nadia’s feelings, and she did judge her for throwing away her position for a non-relationship that amounted to one hot fuck in the front seat of her car. Okay, one really hot fuck…

“I’m sorry,” Bette finally managed as they pulled up to the house. “Let me call you a cab…come inside and wait.”

Nadia looked at her, but finally climbed out of the car and handed the keys over to Bette, following her up the steps to the house.

If it wasn’t for the housekeeper, Bette’s house would look as awful as she felt. But it was spotless. Every surface clean, every sculpture and art piece clear of dust, not even a fingerprint on the glass in the frames. She watched Nadia survey the living room.

“Sit down, please,” Bette gestured to the couch, where she took a seat herself. Nadia sat beside her.

“You really don’t regret losing your position as my assistant?” She finally had to ask, looking at Nadia for longer than a quick glance for the first time since she’d laid a hand on her shoulder at the bar.

Nadia shook her head. “That night…those couple of days when I thought you…when I thought we had something. I wouldn’t trade them. There will be other jobs. There will be other professors. I don’t regret anything. I don’t even regret following you now-“ Nadia stopped talking abruptly and blushed.

It took Bette’s drunken mind a second to follow the meaning of the words, then she stared at Nadia, full on.

“Following me? Following me now? What does that mean?”

Tears had sprung to Nadia’s eyes, and she was staring at her hands in her lap.

“I was worried about you. I didn’t follow you at work or anything, just to the bar, so I knew you’d get home okay. You always called your friends, but tonight…”

There was a long pause, and then Nadia continued.

“I would do anything-“ her voice broke, and she swallowed hard, “I would do anything to touch you again, to think that you cared about me enough to let me near you.”

Bette watched her wipe tears away, and reached out to grab her hand. Nadia gasped a little, and looked at Bette in surprise.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Bette said, her eyebrows knitting in concern. “That night…it didn’t mean nothing to me, Nadia. I just can’t, I can’t let anyone touch me right now.”

To her surprise, Bette’s voice faded to a teary gasp as she felt a tear roll down her cheek. Nadia slid closer to her on the couch and wiped it away gently with her thumb.

“Please, Bette,” she murmured, “Let me.”

They kissed. It started slow, but soon Bette was tearing open Nadia’s shirt, and Nadia was gasping and whimpering as she palmed her breasts through the lace of her bra.

“Take this off,” Bette’s voice regaining some of its usual commanding tone as she tugged on the remains of the shirt. “I want to see you.”

Nadia stood and pulled off the top, unhooked her bra, and wriggled out her pencil skirt. She made a show of slowly peeling off her lace underwear, and left her heels on as she straddled Bette’s lap.

Bette licked one nipple, tugging on the other, and Nadia arched her back and reached between them, unbuttoning Bette’s pristine slacks and sliding a hand inside. She was soaking wet.

“Fuck,” Bette moaned as Nadia circled her clit with her finger. Her hips ground against her hand, and then Nadia pulled back and looked at her with those impossibly blue eyes.

Bette pulled Nadia’s hand from between her legs and grabbed her hips, sliding them both onto the floor. She pinned Nadia to the ground and placed a hand between her legs, cupping her. Now Nadia’s eyes were dark with arousal, her breathing shallow.

“Fuck me, please,” Nadia whispered, “I need you inside me.”

Bette plunged two fingers inside her, curling them against her and thrusting into her without giving her time to adjust.

“God, yes,” Nadia moaned, “I love feeling you inside me.”

Bette felt Nadia’s fingernails digging into her back, scratching her. She leaned forward and bit down hard on the swell of Nadia’s breast, leaving a mark. Nadia’s hips bucked hard beneath her.

“Fuck! I’m gonna come!” she cried, her hips moving wildly.

“Come now,” Bette commanded, and she did, coming undone in a trembling mess.

“Bette! Fuck, yes! God, Bette!”

Bette watched her come down from it. She heard an almost inaudible “thank you,” and knew the girl had to go.

Bette knelt up and reached for the pile of Nadia’s clothes. She pushed them towards her.

“Here,” she said, standing and buttoning her own pants, smoothing her shirt and hair.

“Um, thank you,” Nadia said softly, clearly not quite comprehending Bette’s meaning. She struggled to her feet on weak knees and began pulling on her underclothes. Bette pulled out her phone.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Nadia asked when she noticed Bette’s phone. Bette looked up at the impossibly young girl, clothing the torn remains of her blouse.

“I’m calling you a cab,” she answered curtly, “And I’ll give you a sweater, that was obviously my fault,” she gestured to the shirt.

Nadia looked destroyed.

“You can’t stay,” Bette said, a little softer, “I’m sorry. I can’t…I shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake.”

Nadia managed to look even worse, and grabbed her purse from the floor beside the couch.

“Forget the cab. I can take the bus.”

“Nadia, please, let me-“

“No. Fuck you, Bette. You will never be a mistake to me, but I’m done. I’m not doing this again.”

The door slammed shut behind her, and Bette closed her eyes and dropped back onto the couch, her head in her hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Original post: http://faberizona-femslash.tumblr.com/post/81234802247/56-the-l-word-bette-nadia


End file.
